


If At First You Don't Succeed, Tryst, Tryst Again

by completetheory



Category: Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Trans Character, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Is it egotistical to tag my own work with humor?, Queer Friendly, Trans Female Character, World of Darkness more like World of Nobody Is Straight Sorry, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22981810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/completetheory/pseuds/completetheory
Summary: Brief encounter between the aged, unflappable Bertram Tung and the somewhat less aged, moderately flappable Andrei (And their ghouls). Mostly a sketchy character study.
Relationships: Andrei (Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines)/Stanley Gimble, Knox Harrington/Bertram Tung
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	If At First You Don't Succeed, Tryst, Tryst Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MadScientific](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadScientific/gifts).



Plans inside plans. Faked deaths. Secret alliances. Hidden, multiple identities. Keeping track of Kindred goals was like a room full of Matryoshka dolls, disassembled and scattered randomly about. Just the shells of upper torsos with handsome smiles, and nothing to logically connect them anywhere.

Which incidentally was Andrei’s art form. 

And as far as Machiavellian plots went, “fake your own death” ranked just above soap opera and just below ‘distracting scandal’. The latter worked poorly in Kindred society, partly because one sect’s distracting scandal was another sect’s Friday night house party. 

Nevertheless. Andrei faked his own death. Not once, but twice, and it worked both times on the hapless Fledgling, because having no Sire was proof against understanding even a fraction of what the Kindred got up to when even the Kindred themselves struggled with explaining such things. 

Still, Tung knew it. There wasn’t much Tung didn’t know. He was at that moment in time curled up on a couch, leonine and gnarled paws making soft strokes against Knox’s equally soft hair. The ghoul was asleep, and Tung was very much awake, but waiting. 

Tung played the game with the kind of reckless abandon that only a complete fool or a seasoned pro would, with nothing in between. He looked up, more calmly than most people might, as the blood pooled around the base of the door and the keyhole, first dribbling, then streaming, then pouring in, and resolving itself once inside as the silhouette of a Tzimisce who really liked ceratopsids.

“You’re so dramatic.” Tung observed, keeping his voice down to avoid waking his ghoul. 

The Archbishop tugged down his jacket, ensuring all was in order before moving closer, into the light where Tung could see him. As if he could ever be mistaken for anyone else. 

Behind him, the Archbishop’s own ghoul just used the door, though in fairness it was probably Andrei’s blood-form that had unlocked it. Knox wasn’t the sort to forget to lock up. 

Tung could smell even better in the dark, and hear Gimble’s heartbeat, noting that it was calm. Very calm for someone encroaching on the domain of an Elder without a by-your-leave. Tung’s lax personality may have done him no favors in that respect. 

“My time’s not free.” Tung added, though it was obviously cheap, by Andrei’s evaluation of his position covered in sleeping ghoul. Like Andrei could talk. The looks he so blatantly favored Gimble with could write half a book of sonnets, and Tung hadn’t even bothered to actively spy on them until recently.

“Certainly not.” Andrei assured him, “I merely wish to inform you that I am desirous of no further conflict with Prince LaCroix.” 

“Really.” Tung could feel Knox stirring. “It’s okay, Harrington.” He had to say that. Goofy, adorable, sweet Knox Harrington would wake up, take one look at Andrei and have a few bulletholes in him before he could start a condescending sentence about kine. It was just one of the many reasons Tung loved his ghoul fiercely.

“You’re not accusing Andrei of lying, I hope.” Stanley Gimble piped up from the relative safety of Andrei’s shoulder. 

The Nosferatu Elder clucked. “Sweetheart. I do everything up front and open. I lost the last shred of my shame centuries ago. I’ll call bullshit what it is, don’t you worry. Just surprises me that a diehard for the Sabbat doesn’t want to literally die for the cause - you’re pretty low rung to be worried about your own skin, Archbishop.” 

“Indeed, well.” Andrei glanced off to one side as if he would have this conversation elsewhen or not at all. “I feel Los Angeles is big enough to share.” 

“ _Now_ I’m calling bullshit.” Tung informed Gimble. 

Gimble frowned, looking genuinely hurt, but Andrei recovered with enough good grace to amend, “I have heard whispering of a secret alliance between the Prince and the Kuei-Jin. It saddens me that Prince LaCroix has fallen far enough to accept such an untrustworthy creature into her confidence.” 

“If it were true, that’d sadden me too.” Tung felt Knox shift, felt her mumble and turn over a bit, and knew for a fact that she was faking being asleep. Keeping the slightest edge. Good. Goddamn she was attractive when she was thinking ahead. Which was all the time. “So you want to be the other untrustworthy creature in her life.” 

“I would not be opposed to a ceasefire until we had ejected the Kuei-Jin.” Andrei explained, with patience that Tung found impressive for someone he was guessing was only barely scraping two centuries of age. LaCroix was similarly aged, and while Ventrue, was run ragged and had retreated into the therapeutic practice of ‘snapping at idiots’. 

“I’ll pass it along.” Tung said, “Is that all?” 

Andrei did not show the slightest sign of leaving. “Forgive me, this is your home. I should not have barged in so blatantly to demand your audience. I was merely pressed by my other obligations to meet with you quickly.” 

_Pressed by my other obligations_ meant _the Fledgling isn’t someone I can easily kill, intimidate or win over._ That was probably true. 

“I understand your reasons.” Tung purred, not drawing attention to Knox by suggesting it was _her_ home, not his. He yawned, showing a mouth that looked like a cat, if designed by someone assuming cats had teeth like a high-rise collapse. 

“Then I am happy to go.” Andrei confirmed respect in deed as well as word, and Tung was curious about that. 

“Meet me up later, we’ll talk about it more.” Tung said, generously, and Andrei gave a surprised, if agreeable murmur, and exited. 

Tzimisce were love/hate for Nosferatu, in Tung’s opinion. Culturally they were a headache - they loved to look ‘monstrous’ and it was a source of great concern for the Masquerade. But they were also undeniably generous about the appearances of other clans, especially the Nos, and historically they were protective of the underdogs. They had reached out to the Cappadocians and the Salubri, they were angry even now that the Tremere had been so despicable in their early genesis with Gangrel, Tzimisce and Nosferatu lives. As a clan, the Tzimisce were - even confined to New World branding - hard to quantify. 

This one was probably a dick in some ways, Tung wagered, an alienating of his own humanity, and Siring that had taught him nothing but shitty Sabbat habits. But it might be worth the outreach. LaCroix’s Sheriff was Tzimisce, for fuck’s sake. That meant she _would_ accept and work with anyone, and the Tzimisce’s main strength was the same as the Ventrue’s: they didn’t go around haphazardly breaking their word, impuning their honor, or looking unreliable when they made concrete promises. 

Tung could respect it, and could even move to potentially correct Andrei. Stop him killing and fleshcrafting humans, “worthless” (ugh!) or not, and get him on-sides for pushing the Kuei-Jin out. Maybe they’d like working together. He’d never dismiss something out of hand that could have value.

“You okay?” Knox’s heart, hummingbird-quick for a few moments, told him she was worried more about him than herself. 

“Cupcake. I’m fine. That was him on his best behavior, I think. The Fledgling put the fear of - their unnaturally powerful self into him, I guess. Can’t think of another reason he’d be eager to talk to the Prince after a year of being a royal pain in her backside.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” Knox was always eager, always warm, and strangely protective, for someone who didn’t outmuscle her regnant even slightly. 

“There’s no rush.” Tung kissed Knox’s forehead with care, “You’re warm, the night is young. I’ll let the Prince know in a couple minutes, and then we’ll figure something out.” 

In the limo, Gimble relaxed against the driver’s seat, admiring Andrei as openly in private as Andrei had admired her in public. “So, what’s your cunning plan?” 

“Ahh...” Andrei opened his hands. “I’m still thinking, pet.”


End file.
